“You won’t be here to see it, Wai Jia. It’ll take four to five years before it bears any fruit.”
“What? They told me it’d be HUGE in a year’s time.”
Why that made such a difference to me baffled me in some way. Yet, I knew it was just but a natural response. After all, don’t we all want to savor the fruit of what we have sowed and planted? Don’t we all want a part in the harvest, after all the time and effort we have labored?
Since planting our avocado seedling in our front yard, given to us by our Ugandan student-pastors, Cliff and I were both tickled by how much care we each gave it. Checking on it regularly, we gladly watered it and put manure around it. When its leaves drooped in the sun, we checked to see if it would revive after a drink of rain. But what if all this effort came to nothing? What if, by the time we left in a year or two’s time, it was still a young plant without any avocados?
As I pondered over those thoughts, I was startled at how they reflected my insecurities and fears about the new season of work we were entering in. Having spent time with the people and getting to know their needs, hopes and dreams in the past few months, we, together with the locals, had started to plan for livelihood projects to help supplement the income of the poor. These included rabbit, poultry and even pig rearing, which were said to yield good income, while utilizing the existing skills of the local team.
Visiting income-generating projects at different homes with the public health institute I volunteer at, also gave us an idea of what we could do, and what to expect.
From a little piglet given as start-up to a villager, a large-sized pig could now yield more piglets and fetch a porky price, boosting a village family’s household income.
A full-grown pig, as long as our mini Rav-4, could yield a million shillings ($400 USD), a large income for a family.
Piglets, sold at 3 months old, can bring in good money too, given that a litter consists of 10 to 12 piglets.
Using a little start-up capital, a lady used her skills of mat-making to buy materials, and now owns a little kiosk selling hand-made mats and jewelry.
From a dream of selling 50 chickens, a farmer-pastor now breeds ten times that number of chickens, which yield almost 300 eggs daily, to provide for his family and church ministry.
Our pastor-friends blessing us with the freshest bag of eggs we’ve ever received,
freshly picked from their coop!
But there are also projects which fail.
A sewing machine bought by the health institute to a villager was chucked aside and the villager went back to her old ways of prostituting herself to earn money; a rabbit project caught a disease and died off. These are snippets of the sobering reality of livelihood projects, when they take a turn for the worse.
It made me wonder: for all the research and meetings and visits we had done, and for all the funds we would be putting in for the upcoming rabbit and poultry project, would we see the fruit of our labor come to pass?
Us visiting a rabbit farm
These NZ rabbits are supposed to be a great delicacy in Africa.
Can’t bear the thought of eating these cute creatures!
In Africa, delays are frustratingly common. Meetings get cancelled because of bad weather, builders stop work to demand for more money, things get stalled because one man’s “yes” was in fact a polite “no” that was hidden subtly in shy body language. Would the projects succeed? Even if they did, would they truly bear the fruit of transforming the lives we had hoped to impact? Or would it cripple the people further, building a dependency on foreigners still?
As I shared my inner doubts with Cliff, he confessed, that he too, was scared. But it was a necessary risk and step of faith we had to take.
Just as how neither of us were certain we would stay long enough to taste the fruit of our avocado seedling, that did not stop us from watering it daily, fertilizing it with manure, and checking on it regularly to ensure it was growing well. After all, we were both familiar with stories of years of apparent fruitless labor by missionaries, which yielded fruit only years after succeeding generations, or even after the death of the missionaries themselves.
Nonetheless, their labor was not in vain. We have to believe that, even if we fail.
In the same way, I thought, isn’t that how God invests in our lives? He loves us, nurtures us and provides for us. Yet, at the end of our life’s journey, who’s to say we won’t betray Him like Judas did, and turn our backs on a God who loved us ceaselessly?
So here we are, at the beginning of a new journey, filled with anticipation and uncertainty. We are constantly plagued by voices of discouragement which mock our efforts at relating to the local people, discussing their visions with them and seeing how we can best help them help themselves. Yet, we know we must continue to walk forward. We must continue to try.
Whether the rabbits live or die, whether the chicken coop gets built or becomes an abandoned effort, whether or not these projects yield the harvest we had hoped they would, we must remain faithful to the work God has called us to. Whether or not we get to taste the avocados from the seedling we had planted, we must continue to water it.
As Cliff often says, if you don’t try, you just never know.
We must continue to try, and trust that it is God, and not our own selves, who gives the harvest.
“I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow.
So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything,
but only God, who makes things grow.
The one who plants and the one who waters have one purpose,
and they will each be rewarded according to their own labor.
For we are co-workers in God’s service; you are God’s field, God’s building.”
– 1 Cor 3:6-9